Prisoners of Circumstance
by DesDiamondS
Summary: What happens to two people when they are trapped by something greater than four walls? Post HBP


Author's Notes: Written late 2006. Harry Potter is not mine. Just playing with the characters for a bit.

Draco Malfoy had been placed in the center of a dark room on the second floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, with a small candle as the only source of light. His arms were bound tightly behind him to the back of a small wooden chair and he sat slouching, his body clothed only with what remained of his black slacks. His delicate white skin was marred with long, deep gashes, some still dripping with blood. His face was nearly unrecognizable from the various hexes his captors had used on him and there was dried blood embedded in his hair. His body was limp and unmoving; the slight rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

Hermione stood in a dark corner near the door, unsure if she should proceed. His wretched state made her want to vomit; she could feel the bile building at the back of her throat. She swallowed with great difficulty and wiped at a few stray tears that escaped from her eyes. She could not believe that after her departure six months ago she would have to face him this way. Harry had begged her to go see Draco, although she really wasn't sure why. Draco had given up any useful information during the first four days after his capture and for the past three days, he had been left to rot in this room. Did Harry think she would find this scene as amusing as he and Ron had? That thought pained her. Her best friends had changed so much during the last six months of the war that she wasn't really sure if she knew them anymore. The connection that they had shared seemed to have been severed at the end of their sixth year at Hogwarts. After attending Bill and Fleur's wedding over the summer, they returned to the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters and kept to themselves. She missed being able to talk to them like she used to.

Draco stirred suddenly, grimacing with pain, his face contorted in agony. Hermione stepped towards him out of habit; she always used to run to him whenever he needed help. She stopped suddenly, unsure if she should go to him. He heard the movement and looked over to where she was standing, his dark eyes filled with fear. She took another step forward, and then another until she was near enough for the candlelight to illuminate her face. His face went blank when he recognized her and he turned away, closing his eyes. Hermione moved a few steps closer and closed the gap between them, her legs almost touching his knees. She could now fully appreciate the damage that had been done to him by the Order.

"I came to see you," she said lamely, as a chill ran down her spine. Why did she feel so cold all of a sudden?

He kept his face turned away from her, silent, acting as if she wasn't there. Hermione shuddered, her heart aching as she thought back to the last time she had seen him. She had nearly gone mad with grief the night she said goodbye to him, believing she would never see him again. As she walked away from him that night, she felt a small part of herself die. She wanted to turn back, but she knew she couldn't. She was to leave for Order Headquarters that very night. However, her departure from Hogwarts had been delayed a few days by the murder of the former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The night she was to leave, she stayed up until midnight in the Gryffindor common room awaiting her chaperone. She heard people running through the halls and saw the Dark Mark rise high above the Astronomy Tower from her window. Within minutes, a frazzled Neville and an eerily calm Luna joined her. They battled for their lives that night and came a bit too close to death a number of times, but in the end, they pulled through. Most of them did at least. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, trying to clear her mind. She still couldn't believe all that had happened. A traitorous teacher and the young Malfoy heir had brought down the greatest wizard she had ever known. That very boy now sat in front of her, looking incapable of committing such a crime.

"Why, Draco?" she asked.

Silence followed her question and she faltered, offended by his indifference. She turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You were always so naïve…" he mumbled miserably. She turned back to face him; he was staring at the ground by her feet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply.

He breathed heavily for a few moments, the pain in his chest causing him to wince. "What did you expect me to do? Go shake Potter's hand? Maybe kiss the Weasel?" he hissed.

"No! I…I just didn't think you would go through with it…especially after-" Before she could finish, Draco interrupted her, changing the subject; he didn't want her to remind him of the past, and of all the things that could have been.

"I'm surprised anyone remembers I'm here; it seems that they've lost interest in me," Draco said.  


Flustered by his interruption, she sighed. "They have."

"Then why continue these mind games? Why am I still here?" asked Draco.

"I really couldn't tell you because I don't know."

"Figure they'll kill me?" Draco asked indifferently. Hermione grimaced at the hardness in his voice and the thoughts that his question brought to mind.

"I suppose it's a possibility," she said. The silence hung between them for a few minutes as Hermione analyzed his wounds. She could almost feel the hexes that had created the marks on his body and could once again hear his screams of agony that had penetrated the whole house. She wanted to touch him, to soothe him and take away all of his pain.

"Why are you here, Hermione?" Draco asked suddenly. His question shook her from her reverie and she backed away from him. It had been so long since she had heard him say her name; it felt strange to hear it.

"I told you, I've come to see you," Hermione answered.

"Well, then, I guess you've-" Draco's attempt at sarcasm was cut short as he was stricken by a sudden fit of coughing. He spat up blood. Embarrassed, he refused to make eye contact with Hermione as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the blood from his chin.

"Don't bother," he mumbled. "If you haven't already noticed, I'm covered in the stuff." She considered him for a moment and sighed irritably.

"Then I guess I'll just have to clean that up too." Hermione took out her wand and suddenly a basin of warm water and a soft sponge appeared at her feet. She took the sponge and squeezed out the excess water. She carefully began washing his face.

"You really don't have to do this," he whispered. She smiled sadly.

"I know, but I want to. They should never have done this to you," she said softly.

"In all fairness, I did kind of deserve it," he smirked. "I mean, I did give your little friends one hell of a fight."

"I know you did; I was here when they brought you in kicking and screaming. They thought they'd never get you to shut up."

"Well, they did a first-rate job with the routine beatings, and as you can see, I've calmed down quite a bit." His dismissive attitude unnerved Hermione. She bit her lip and let an awkward silence fall between them; she didn't want to imagine Draco being beaten and tortured by her own friends. Her stomach rolled at the thought that perhaps Harry and Ron had taken part in torturing Draco. Hermione leaned in close to him as she worked her way down his arms with the sponge. This was the closest he had been to her in months. He closed his eyes; her irresistible scent filled his senses and he moaned softly. She pretended not to notice, but a blush crept up her face just the same. She walked around to the back of the chair and touched her wand to the enchanted ropes that were holding him in place. They fell to the floor. His arms fell limply to his side; he groaned from the discomfort of the sudden weight. He looked at Hermione.

"That wasn't very smart of you," he said ruthlessly.

"How else am I going to wash your hands?" she asked.

"You're putting yourself in danger."

"Am I?" she asked defiantly. "Are you going to hurt me, Draco?" He silently scrutinized her as she tenderly took his hands in hers and washed off the dried blood. It felt good to have his hands free, and it felt even better to have Hermione holding them.

"I'd never dream of hurting you," he said softly.

Hermione looked up from her kneeling position in front of him and smiled. Finished with his arms and hands, she moved to wash his chest. The warm water was tinted red with blood as she touched the sponge to his skin. Drops of water rolled down his broad chest and chiseled abs, finally pooling at his navel. Her pulse quickened as she continued admiring his body. Marked and bloody as he was, he was still the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on. She hesitated though when her thoughts turned to Viktor. As if reading her mind, Draco took hold of her left hand and pulled it off his chest; she let the sponge fall to the floor.

"I don't think your fiancée would like this," he said. Hermione was taken aback by his comment.

"How did you-"

"Please Hermione, I may have been beaten to a bloody pulp, but I can still see," he said, indicating the ring on her left hand. Silently, she cursed at herself. Why hadn't she taken it off before coming here?

'Why would you want to hide it?' she thought. Draco linked their hands together and his gray eyes looked into hers. She tried to hide from him the battle that was raging inside of her, but it was too late; he had seen the moment of doubt in her eyes.

"Do you really love him?" he asked her, tightening his grip on her hand. She blinked, then looked at Draco, desperately trying to hold back her tears.

"How could you ask me such a stupid question? Draco, I'm going to marry him for Christ's sake!"

He remained calm in spite of her angry outburst. "That's not what I asked. Do you love him…like you love me?"

"We've been through this before," she cried out, ripping her hand from his grasp and standing up. "I don't - I can't go through this again," she sobbed. Hermione turned away but could still feel his piercing gaze on the back of her neck. It made her tremble. Overwhelmed by memories of the past, she ran for the door, suddenly needing to escape his presence. She slammed the door behind her; sobs shook her whole frame as she leaned against the wall for support. Finally, she crouched down to sit on the floor, burying her head in her hands. She didn't notice Harry walking towards her. He knelt down beside her and pulled a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. She took a deep breath and tried to control her tears. She didn't like Harry to see her like this, not with all of the other things he had to deal with.

"I hope you got to say your goodbyes," he whispered. She looked up at him with a tear stained face, confusion and fear in her eyes. He dropped his gaze to the wooden floor.

"He leaves for Azkaban at dawn."


End file.
